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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28480701">Hygge</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle'>Camelittle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidents, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cyclist Merlin, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Merlioske-friendly, Minor Injuries, Not Beta Read, hygge, oh no they were flatmates!, they were flatmates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:22:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,585</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28480701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Merlin falls off his bike, hurts his knee, gets splashed and has an emotional breakdown by the side of the road. But it all turns out okay when his hunky flatmate Arthur patches him up again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hygge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the "Wild Card" square on my 2020 h/c bingo card (fits the Accident, Minor/Illness Injuries, and Taking Care of Someone prompts)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“<em>Hygge</em>,” Merlin said, employing his best Danish accent to pull out the full effect of the ever-difficult vowel sound in the middle of the word, which he intended to come across as authentic but instead sounded a bit like he was being sick. </p><p>“I do beg your pardon,” replied Arthur without looking up from The Daily Telegraph. “I hope you feel better soon.”</p><p>“You are so pompous, sometimes.” Flicking the top of the broadsheet with one hand, Merlin glared down at his flatmate. “You asked me what my favourite aesthetic was, and that’s it. Hygge. It’s a Danish word and it means… um...” He groped around for a word to summarise the concept and all he could come up with was the Welsh equivalent.  “...<em>cwtch.” </em></p><p>“Ah,” murmured Arthur, struggling vainly to pretend to still be reading the paper, although the smirk gave him away. “Bless you.” </p><p><em>“</em>That’s the Welsh word. It’s like… it’s like <em>cosy</em>. Prat.”</p><p>“How can a <em>prat</em> be cosy?” Wrestling the paper out of Merlin’s hands, Arthur folded it carefully and put it on the sofa, lifting an enquiring brow. </p><p>Merlin rolled his eyes. “<em>Hygge</em>,” he said, “means <em>cwtch</em>, which means cosy. You,” he pointed at Arthur, “are the prat.” </p><p>“The breadth or should I say narrowness of your vocabulary never ceases to amaze me, Merlin,” drawled Arthur, his expression soft and at odds with the bite of his words. </p><p>“Huh.” Merlin moistened suddenly dry lips with his tongue, then flushed as Arthur’s gaze flicked down to follow the movement. </p><p>“There you go again with your words, Merlin. Honestly, for a student of literature you do seem wildly unable to communicate verbally.” A mischievous gleam highlighted the sly expression in his unfairly blue eyes</p><p>“Says the man who thinks the word idiot is the height of sophistication.” Merlin narrowed his eyes and pointed his finger. “Anyway. Have you really never heard of <em>hygge</em>?” </p><p>Arthur didn’t reply. He just smirked instead, which was when Merlin remembered that Arthur had spent two years in Denmark when he was growing up, and probably knew more about <em>hygge </em>than he did. </p><p>“Ugh. I really don’t know why I put up with you.” </p><p>Jamming on his cycle helmet and tugging at his reflective jacket, Merlin threw his newly cleaned food cargo backpack across his shoulders and strode out with as much dignity as he could muster, Arthur’s laughter ringing in his ears. </p><p>But Merlin never could bring himself to remain indignant at Arthur for too long. It was difficult to maintain an air of outrage when confronted with a jaw so rugged you could offer it to carpenters to help them with their french polishing, and a pair of thighs so thickly muscled that an array of walnut-hungry chefs could use them gainfully for their nut cracking. This whole package was enough to make any self-respecting gay boy lose his train of thought, and the worst thing was that Arthur wasn’t even doing it on purpose. Just think what his impact would be like if he chose to use his charms for evil instead of good? </p><p>The weather really was disgusting today, and being the lead up to Christmas everyone wanted larger orders than usual delivered. Despite being conditioned by weeks of working as a food delivery cyclist, by the end of a manic shift, Merlin ached all over and he still had the long ride uphill back home to contemplate. </p><p>Just as he reached the bottom of his final climb, leaning forward and putting all his weight on his pedals, his chain came off, making his feet circle wildly. Normally he would control the move perfectly, but he was so weary that his legs already felt like jelly and he just toppled off the bike, landing heavily on one knee with a painful jolt that made him curse out loud. </p><p>Pulling his bike onto the pavement, he took a peek at his grazed knee, and grimaced at the blood that was oozing through the ragged hole that now adorned his favourite cycling trousers.</p><p>“Bang goes another pair,” he mourned. “They cost me thirty quid. Damn it.”</p><p>Not to mention the knee. He would have to clean that up when he got home, but first he had to fix his bike. With a curse, he pulled off his gloves to reassemble it, realising as he did so that the chain had actually snapped. </p><p>“Great,” he muttered under his breath. </p><p>He would have to push the bike home, which would take at least half an hour. He got up and started on his way, pain making him wince a little with every step and distracting him so that he missed the puddle that had collected by the roadside. </p><p>A passing bus chose that moment to pass too close, its wheels churning up the puddle and covering him from head to toe with dirty slush. The shock of the sudden deluge of cold made him gasp, eyes closing, mouth gaping. It would have made a hilarious picture for someone, no doubt, but Merlin was far from laughing now. Now he was freezing cold and covered in grime, not to mention his food cargo backpack being ruined. Those things were bloody expensive. He didn’t even want to contemplate how many bloody kebab orders he’d need to deliver to cover the expense of ordering a new one. </p><p>Drenched, defeated, bedraggled and fatigued, he sat on the cold, wet, gritty pavement, his broken cycle chain in both hands, blood oozing from his knee, and gave in to self pity, a sob bubbling up in the back of his throat. </p><p>After a few minutes of this, he was shivering, the adrenaline and the warmth from his previous exertion having worn off. God. He clambered painfully to his feet. He would have to carry on despite his injury. He groaned, dreading having to explain the state he was in to Arthur when he got in. </p><p>Arthur would find it hilarious, no doubt, when he turned up all pathetic and tear stained at the front door of their flat. And the stuck up prat would probably make him strip all his clothes off before letting him in, so he would not trail gunge all over the floors of their flat. Arthur’s flat, he reminded himself as he trudged morosely up the hill. </p><p>By the time he reached home, his fingers were too numb to dig out his room keys and his knee was on fire. Throwing the last of his pride to the winds, he pressed one frozen, unresponsive finger to the doorbell and let it ring, pleading silently for his flatmate to answer the door and bracing himself for Arthur’s inevitable quips at his expense. He would probably make some unfunny remark about Merlin’s newly developed fashion sense and then some sort of jibe about how the cycle helmet was probably unnecessary, because there wasn’t much going on between Merlin’s ears anyway. </p><p>“Merlin! Where’s your k--” Arthur’s voice died on his lips as he took in Merlin’s sodden, shivering appearance. “Never mind,” he said in an uncharacteristically fond voice. “How have you managed to mangle your knee so badly, you buffoon? Honestly, it’s a wonder you made it home at all. Come in, let’s get you cleaned up.”</p><p>God, Merlin really must look a wreck for Arthur to sound all sympathetic like that. He didn’t even complain when Merlin insisted on bringing what was left of his bicycle into the hallway, or comment on the way that it dripped all over the laminated wood floor. Instead, he ducked under Merlin’s arm, snaking his own arm around Merlin’s waist to take the weight of Merlin’s wounded leg, and steered him to the bathroom, all the while making <em>tsk tsk</em> noises at the sight of Merlin’s wounded knee. </p><p>Arthur deposited an unresponsive Merlin on the toilet seat, and vanished for a moment or two while Merlin tried and failed to move his stiff fingers. </p><p>“Just dump all your clothes in here,” Arthur said returning from the kitchen a moment or two later with a plastic binliner. </p><p>Merlin looked at him dumbly, and tried to fumble at the zip on his jacket. But his fingers were shaking from the cold and the fatigue and he couldn’t even grip the zipper. </p><p>“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Arthur batted his hand away and unzipped it himself, then matter-of-factly stripped the still-shaking Merlin of his cycling clothes and long-sleeved thermal shirt. </p><p>“Stand up,” said Arthur firmly. “We need to get you clean.” He turned his back for a moment to fire up the shower. </p><p>When he turned back, Merlin was sort of vertical, but there was a wild throbbing in his ears and his head was swimming. He felt like he might fall at any moment. He may have lurched a bit, because Arthur caught hold of him again. </p><p>“Hold on to me,” commanded Arthur. “Let me get you out of those trousers.” </p><p>“I don’t put out on first dates,” slurred Merlin, with a hysterical giggle. His voice sounded funny and his tongue was a bit thick. </p><p>Arthur huffed out a laugh. “No, of course not, but we need to wash that knee. Idiot.” </p><p>So, Merlin leaned on Arthur and stood on first one foot, then the other, while Arthur carefully removed his cycle trousers. </p><p>“How on earth did you manage to get in such a state?” scolded Arthur as he worked. </p><p>“Tired,” said Merlin, blinking up at him as he sank back down onto the toilet seat, holding both feet out in front of him for Arthur to remove the final bit of trouser, leaving him in only his underpants. “Cold.”</p><p>The bathroom was beginning to get steamy from the shower, which was still running, and Merlin’s fingers and toes were beginning to tingle as the circulation started to return. Arthur helped him into the shower and grabbed his hand, turning it palm up. “God your hands are freezing.” </p><p>“Sorry?” said Merlin, brain refusing to co-operate. </p><p>“Hopeless!” Shaking his head, in mock exasperation, Arthur squirted shower gel into his outstretched hand. “Go on. Get yourself clean. Just get that shower gel on.”</p><p>Merlin did as he was told, for once finding it quite soothing to be bossed around. </p><p>“That’s it. Now sit down and let the hot water do its work on that knee.” Arthur grabbed the shower head off its stand and held it out, water discharging from the end in a hot, soothing jet. </p><p>Sitting gratefully in the bath, still wearing his underpants, Merlin took the proffered shower head and directed the jet at his knee, hissing at the sting of abused flesh. Half-congealed blood mixed with black, bloody grit ran down onto the base of the bath and into the plug, leaving his fresh pink graze behind. </p><p>“Make sure you get all the grit out,” said Arthur as he bustled out of the room, returning with Merlin’s his favourite fluffy Avengers towel, which he folded and put on the towel rail to warm up.</p><p>After the initial shock of the heat on his fingers and toes, Merlin felt himself gradually begin thawing out. Once all the grit in the wound had gone and the grime had washed down, he put the plug in the bath and added bubble bath, allowing the bath to fill from the taps. He sank back into the hot water, finally removing his underpants and depositing them in a sodden heap on the floor of the bathroom. He let the warmth seep into his bones and sooth away the soreness of his aching muscles for a few minutes before there was a light tap on the door. </p><p>“You haven’t gone to sleep in there, have you, idiot?” </p><p>“No, I’m fine,” said Merlin. With a sigh, he struggled painfully up, putting the towel around him. His fingers were still cold though, despite the heat of the water. </p><p>“Good,” said Arthur through the door. “Because I’ve made some bolognese with that vegan mince stuff, and a bit of hot chocolate with that weird almond milk you seem to like so much, so I think you should get out and eat some. It’ll warm you up properly.” </p><p>“Yes, mum,” said Merlin, Arthur’s unexpected kindness warming him more thoroughly than any amount of hot chocolate could, however vegan. </p><p>When he finally made it through to the sofa wearing an old pair of cycling shorts, his faded hunt sabs T-shirt and the fluffy dressing gown that his mother had bought him for Christmas over the top, Arthur presented him with a bowl of vegan bolognese on a tray and stood back, beaming at his own accomplishment. </p><p>“This looks amazing, mate, thank you!” said Merlin trying not to let his devotion show in his expression, but probably failing, given the way that Arthur blushed. He took a sip from the hot chocolate and realised it was not only vegan, but also laced with something a little stronger than cocoa powder. “Mmm!” </p><p>“I put brandy in it.” Arthur flopped on the sofa next to him and draped a blanket across Merlin’s lap. “You looked like you needed it. Doctor Who or Torchwood?” </p><p>“Oh, Torchwood, definitely. Give me some gay Welshmen.”</p><p>Arthur chuckled. “Good call. One can never have too many gay Welshmen!”</p><p>Puzzled, Merlin looked up at Arthur over the top of his mug. Was Arthur flirting with him? More to the point, he did seem to have made a big effort to cosy-up the place. A merry fire played behind the glass of the wood burning stove and the hot chocolate scalded his mouth. The heat of it permeated his body, making him hum in gratitude. On the mantelpiece were a row of lit tea-lights that were dancing a slow rhythm in counterpoint with the fire.</p><p>The telly started up with the Torchwood theme tune.  </p><p>“Thank you, Arthur,” he said, blowing on the surface of the drink, not sure if he ever wanted to move from this spot. He hadn’t felt as homely as this for many years, not since he left his mam’s two-bed terrace in Pontypridd to seek his fortune in the big city. “I mean it. I don’t know how to repay your kindness.”</p><p>“Hmm, well, there’s more to <em>hygge</em> than just cosiness and candles, you know,” Arthur replied with a soft-eyed smile that just made Merlin’s bones want to melt. “There’s companionship, and warmth, and the company of the people that we love, and a bit of kindness too. Plus a slug of booze here and there to banish the cold, like a hug.”</p><p>“Hmm. All this <em>hygge</em> is perfect. Thank you. But next time I get splashed by a number 271 bus, I wouldn’t be averse to a real hug, to be honest,” confessed Merlin, his tongue loosened by the brandy and the sheer sweetness of Arthur’s steady gaze, not to mention the unfamiliar yet welcome sensation of being cared for. </p><p>“Idiot,” Arthur said fondly. “That was an awful lot of trouble to go to for a hug, when all you had to do is ask.” His head tilted to one side and moved minutely closer, his blushed-pink lips parting.</p><p>Mirroring his action, Merlin let his gaze drift down to Arthur’s mouth, and back up again to meet his eyes, dark and questioning in the firelight. When their mouths finally met, with the inevitability of fate, he let his eyes flutter closed in an ecstasy of homecoming. </p><p><em>Hygge</em>, indeed. Or did he mean <em>cwtch</em>? </p><p>On balance, he really did not mind either way.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>END</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not my characters, I'm not getting paid</p></blockquote></div></div>
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